‘Finn isnotmy boyfriend,’ I state resolutely, fighting the urge to squirm as Tom places a bowl of granola, berries and yoghurt in front of me.
We’re in the downstairs kitchen. The sun hasn’t hit this part of the house yet, but it’s such a bright day that light is flooding in from all sides. I wish I had a pair of sunglasses, but I’m too lazy to go upstairs.
‘You don’t owe me an explanation,’ Tom says calmly, taking a seat opposite with a bowl of his own.
‘I feel that I do. Especially after the way I reacted to his brother coming into Seaglass on Thursday. You must think I was trying to mislead you. I wasn’t.’
He shakes his head dismissively.
‘Finn and I ended things for good last summer and Michael hasn’t caught up,’ I explain. ‘He knows. I’ve told him. But it’s going in one ear and out the other.’
‘Sounds as though he doesn’t want to listen,’ Tom agrees.
I let out a huff. ‘He couldn’t even stand Finn until relatively recently. Michael sometimes takes a while to get used to new people.’
‘He’s protective of you,’ he notes.
I slide my hand across the table towards him and brush his fingertips with mine. He takes my hand and gives it a squeeze.
‘How are you feeling this morning?’ he asks, lifting his eyes from his breakfast and studying my face.
‘I was feeling really bloody lovely until that rude awakening.’
His face breaks out into a grin and suddenly I want to climb across the table and attack his sensual mouth. Day-old stubble graces his jaw and he has bedhead hair, all sexy and rumpled.
His thumb brushes over my knuckles and I have a flashback to his hands last night, how skilled they were, how thoughtful.
His eyes darken.
‘Have you got any plans for this morning?’ I ask, heat flooding my lower body.
‘Taking you back to bed?’ he replies.
I can’t think of a single thing I’d like more.
CHAPTER FORTY
‘Don’t let on, but we’ve slept together. I’m only telling you now because I don’t want you seeing something on our faces and blurting—’
Amy cuts off my sentence with a squeal and claps her hands while Rach tilts her face to the ceiling and exclaims ‘YES!’ with her hands pressed together in what looks remarkably like a prayer. I know for a fact that she’s not religious.
Andthenthey throw their arms aroundeach otherand start jumping on the spot.
I stand and stare at them, flummoxed.
It’s Monday night and we’re back at the pub quiz. I was with Tom earlier when a text from Amy came in, asking if I wanted to bring him.
‘Tarek is a bit over quiz night,’ she claimed.
I don’t know if that’s the truth or if my friends are meddling, but Tom seemed glad of the invite.
He’s at the bar with Dan, while Amy, Rach and I wait around the corner for our usual table for six to be cleared. Ellie is running late.
‘What are you doing, huggingeach other?’ I ask my friends in disbelief.
‘We’re so happy!’ Amy cries.
‘You know he’s going home in less than two weeks, right?’ I whisper, confused. ‘It’s just a holiday fling.’
